


Cap? Captain? Big fan, Spiderman

by tina_v



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Armor Kink, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Kinda, M/M, Not that much plot really, Peter is a Little Shit, Peter is over 18, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sorry Not Sorry, Tony Has Issues, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 07:51:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17935778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tina_v/pseuds/tina_v
Summary: The day Peter meets Steve he's all flustered but Tony doesn't want to think twice about it. He trusts Peter. Until the evidence is too overwhelming to ignore.





	Cap? Captain? Big fan, Spiderman

**Author's Note:**

> ooooook
> 
> READ THE TAGS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!
> 
> And if you don't, don't come crying later.
> 
> This is probably the filthiest shit I've written so far.
> 
> See you in hell, my darlings.

It starts innocently enough, Tony notices. The first time his young protégé and lover comes to the compound and meets Steve, he’s shaky and nervous, but looking into the blue pools of righteousness and shaking the strong hand of Captain America does that to people. It makes Tony want to roll his eyes until he can see the back of his skull, but whatever. He gets it. No big deal.

Then there’s the poster he sees once, stuffed in Peter’s bag. It’s not like he’s going through his things, they’re just working at the shop and Pete’s bag happens to be open nearby and Tony sees it. A poster. A Captain America poster. But what Tony finds most interesting is that it’s 1940’s Cap. The one where he’s in his classic tighter-than-a-bull’s-asshole-in-fly-time star spangled suit. Oh, how Tony despised those. Howard hung them absolutely  _everywhere_  and it drove him crazy. He wonders briefly why would Peter have such a thing. Curiosity killed the cat, so when the kid goes to the bathroom for a minute, he can’t help but slide his hand into the bag to examine the poster a bit closer. It’s signed. Peter got Steve to  _sign_  the goddamn thing. Tony narrows his eyes in the bathroom’s direction but puts it back and doesn’t mention it when Pete returns, although he can feel that nasty little prick in his stomach. Jealousy.

The next time it’s a bit more obvious and Tony can’t help but feel hurt about it. When Peter smashes his phone on patrol - yet  _again_  - he obviously goes to his resourceful sugar daddy, who also happens to be a tech genius, and asks him to fix it. Tony would rather just buy him a new one, but he’s happy to tinker a bit for his darling baby boy, so he gladly accepts. He’s trying to salvage whatever he can of the device when he stumbles on a folder that reads ‘Cpt’ and is protected by a password. Tony frowns and tries to talk himself out of it because if it’s password protected, then that’s private. He has no business going through it. But there’s something about those three letters that is eating away at him…

When he cracks the folder open he feels a little burn in the back of his eyes and his jaw clenches shut. There’s pictures of Steve. _A lot_ of pictures of Steve. Steve in the suit, Steve in a press conference, Steve at the Stark Foundation Gala - damn he looks sharp in a suit. Fuck him and his fucking impossible shoulder-to-waist ratio -, Steve in gym clothes… 

Wait, what?

Tony’s heart is pounding in his ears. He looks at the screen again. The background of that picture… that’s the compound’s gym. And that’s not a normal shot, that’s a carelessly angled, slightly blurry picture taken with a phone.  _This_  phone. Steve is untangling the bandages from his hands with a big smile on his face, looking at somewhere above the camera. His clothes are soaked in sweat, so his shirt is stuck to his muscles, making him look even bigger. A couple of golden locks stuck to his forehead, making him look soft and adorable and-

Tony stands up and turns around, unable to face the monitor anymore. Peter had taken that picture himself. What was he doing in the gym? Why did he have a fucking password protected folder full of pictures of Steve, like a teenage fangirl with a fucking  _crush_?

He glances at where his suits stand behind glass showcases, all lined up. He walks up to the Mark 42 display case and looks at it, then at his reflection on the glass. There is a bit of grey in the sides of his head, just above his ears. Some subtle little hairs in his beard too. He scratches it, brows furrowed in concern.

_Steve doesn’t age, though._

He shoots his reflection a sad grim. He thought Peter found him sexy. He thought Peter was proud of him. He thought Peter loved Iron Man. It was such a stupid reason to feel sad and betrayed, but Tony kind of couldn’t help it. Did Peter like Captain America more? Or worse,  _Steve_?

 

* * *

 

“Hi, handsome!” Peter waltzes into the workshop with his usual carelessness and fluidity. “I thought, if you’re not too busy, we c-“

The young man stops on his tracks. Iron Man is sitting on Tony’s chair. The armor stands up and walks towards him, silent except for the mechanic noises it makes when it moves.

“T-Tony?”

Once he’s standing right in front of him, the suit cups Peter’s cock through his jeans in one swift movement. The boy hisses, wide eyed.

“I fixed your phone,  _Parker_.” He hears Tony’s voice coming from the armor in its characteristic robot-like sound. “Something you wanna tell me?”

Peter swallows and eyes the faceplate nervously. He hates not being able to see Tony’s expression.

“I- uh… w- what?”

The metallic hand in his crotch fondles with him a little bit and Peter is mortified that that’s enough to get his cock to twitch and slowly grow in his pants.

“Do not test me, Peter.” Tony is hissing through his teeth.

For a second, Peter looks perplexed but then his eyes widen and his mouth opens in a silent ‘oh’, suddenly understanding.

“Oh,  _Tony_ ,” he says in a condescending tone while placing his hands over the chest armor, feeling the cold metal under his hands “I love you, you know that! My big daddy in his suit of armor…”

He grinds against the suit’s hand like a purring cat and lets out a little whimper, the ones he knows Tony loves.

“Is that so?” Tony says inside the faceplate in a mocking tone. “You love your daddy and his suit of armor?”

Peter keeps looking for friction, rubbing against the hand, his cock already fully hard and trapped in his jeans.

“Yeah, daddy, or course I do.” he manages to breathe out.

“Ok. Then daddy’s gonna fuck you in it.”

Peter stops moving and looks at ‘Tony’ in disbelief but before he can have time to voice his confusion, the hand rubbing his crotch grabs the waistband of his jeans and underwear and shreds them off his body in one quick movement. He does the same with his t-shirt, ripping the clothes apart. Peter gasps, now completely naked except for his shoes and tries to cover himself, looking around, nervous.

“But daddy, these are glass walls! Anyone- ah!” Peter has a hard time breathing when Tony bats his hands away and suddenly grabs his leaking cock. “A-anyone can s-see…”

Tony lets out an animalistic, possessive grunt inside the suit.

“ _Good_.” He strokes Peter slowly but firmly and hisses. “I hope your precious  _Captain_  walks in and sees you bent over this table while I’m pounding into your tight little slut hole.” He grabs Peter by the neck and leans in close to whisper in his ear. “Maybe that way you’ll both remember who you  _belong_  to.”

Peter moans at that, a hot flash of something he can’t explain rushing to his lower belly and sending jolts through his cock, which is starting to drip precome all over the metal of Tony’s gauntlet.

“On your knees, baby. Show your daddy how much you love him” Tony mocks him.

“But- uh… I- you’re in the suit…”

Peter can feel Tony smirking inside the helmet.

“That won’t be a problem, sweetheart.”

With his free hand, he grabs the plate covering his crotch area and removes it, letting the pants under the armor show.

“Now, be a good boy. On your knees.” The hand on Peter’s neck travels fast to grab a fistful of hair and pull at it. Not softly enough to be pleasant but not roughly enough to actually hurt. Peter tilts his head back and obediently sinks to his knees. “Go ahead, open that lying mouth of yours and suck daddy’s cock.”

Peter unzips Tony’s pants and pulls his underwear down, letting his cock and balls hang over the waistband. As he slips his tongue out to lick a stripe across the half hard length, Peter’s eyes dart around the room, watching the glass walls. Literally anyone could pass the hall next to the shop and see them. That thought was both terrifying and accelerating for some reason. He strokes Tony lazily as he looks up and has to suppress a frustrated grunt when, instead of those beautiful brown eyes, he finds a couple of glowing blue sockets fixed on him.

“Daddy, please, take the helmet off…”

“Why? Do you prefer something different? A mask, maybe? Blue, with an A and some ridiculous little wings plastered on it?”

Then without any warning, Tony grabs his own cock with one hand and Peter’s cheeks with the other and digs his fingers in the tender skin, keeping his mouth open and feeding him his cock. When Peter happily wraps his lips around it forming a tight seal, he grabs Peter’s head and pushes him down on it, a small grunt of satisfaction escaping him when he hears Peter gag around the tip, caught at the back of his throat.

Peter’s nose is buried in Tony’s pubic hair; the older man’s cock is so deep in his mouth he can barely breathe. Then Tony starts a brutal pace, facefucking him with determination. Peter looks up and cannot suppress an indecent moan. Tony has retracted his helmet and he’s looking at him with such intensity, his pupils blown wide, mouth slightly parted, the armor all over his body making him look twice the size he is. He wants to reach down and stroke himself, but he knows better. Daddy’s the boss now.

Peter blinks through the tears that are starting to pool in his eyes from the lack of oxygen. He looks up again with his best puppy eyes. He knows Tony absolutely adores that look paired with streaks of tears down his cheeks. When Tony grunts loudly and the grip on his hair tightens, Peter is tempted to smile in satisfaction. He probably would have if that big cock hadn’t been ravishing his mouth.

As soon as Tony’s movements become erratic, he sharply pulls out, letting go of his head and trying to catch his breath.

“Bend over the table.” He carelessly swipes his massive armored arm across it, hasty to get rid of all the stuff covering the surface.

Peter widens his eyes when all the projects, pieces and devices fall to the floor creating a loud racket. He quickly obeys, hissing when the cold surface makes contact with his bare chest and stealing worried looks at the - thankfully, still deserted - hall.

“Spread your legs.” Tony orders and Peter does so, a rush of excitement spreading through him. He loves it when Tony gets bossy. “ _Wider_.”

Peter feels a pleasant blush creep up his cheeks, spreading his legs even further apart, knowing what a sight he must be giving Tony right now.

“Yes, daddy. I’m yours. Fuck me…”

Peter is too hard and too needy to register the sound of Tony reaching for the lube, but he does notice when the cold, thick substance hits the top of his crack and slowly drips over his hole. By the time Peter’s overwhelmed brain starts to wonder, he gets the answer in the form of something solid and cold hovering over his opening.

Tony really is going fuck him in the suit. He’s even going to finger him without taking the gauntlets off.

Peter moans indecently at the thought of Iron Man’s fingers up his asshole, a shiver running through his spine making him tremble.

“Oh, God,  _yes_  daddy…”

Tony presses one of the fingers in and the feeling is nothing like Peter’s ever experienced before. It’s not a finger, because it lacks human warmth. It’s not like a dildo, because it’s not rubbery and soft. It’s metal and hard and cold but it doesn’t completely feel like a lifeless object because it’s still Tony in there.

The older man takes his time. He’s being extremely careful and it’s driving Peter insane, who’s cock remains hard as hell, untouched and pushed down by the edge of the table, so it hangs between his spread legs.

By the time Tony has added the second finger - the gauntlet’s are much bigger than Tony’s - Peter is a whining, squirming mess, a streak of saliva connecting his mouth to the table and rocking back his ass, fucking himself on the metal fingers.

“Daddy! Please, please!  _Pleaaaaase_ …”

“What do you want, baby?”

Tony’s voice sounds harsh and low. Peter can hear the almost uncontrollable need in the way he pants behind him.

“Fuck me.  _Fuck me_ , please, daddy! I’ll be such a good boy. Such a- ah!  _Please_!”

“Look at you, such a needy slut. I should leave you like this, call the Captain so you can beg him for his cock. Is that what you want, baby? You want Cap’s big fat cock?”

“No! No, daddy, I want you!” Tony crooks his fingers very carefully and Peter practically jumps off the table with a loud gasp, the pleasure so overwhelming he loses focus for a second. “Oh,  _for God’s sake, Tony_ , please!”

He’s moaning and begging and squirming against the table, desperate to be fucked, to be touched, the need so intense he doesn’t even remember the glass walls of the workshop. He just  _wants_.

And Tony is not a selfish person.

Peter curses under his breath at the emptiness after the metal fingers slowly and carefully leave his hole, only to let out a mix between a groan and a moan when he feels the head of Tony’s cock push against the loose rim.

The minute Peter feels the head’s in he pushes back, impaling himself on Tony, who lets out a loud moan as his hands grab each side of Peter’s hips firmly to still him. He hears a whimper from the younger one and he has to bite his lip to keep himself from moving.

“Oh, Peter…” he sighs, then takes a deep breath. “You’ve been a very” thrust “bad” thrust “boy.”

Then Tony proceeds to fuck the life and soul out of him. Brutal, rough pace and hard thrusts. The table makes a mesmerizing noise while it moves with every lunge of their bodies, mixed with high pitched moans from Peter and raged, breathy ‘ _yeah_ ’s, ‘ _that’s it_ ’s, ‘ _take it_ ’s from Tony.

Peter is so close and Tony can tell, because his muscles are going stiffer by the second, so he leans over the boy’s back and whispers, breathlessly.

“Who do you like best, sweetheart? Who’s cock makes you feel so good? Who’s cum do you want dripping out your hole, huh? Tell me.”

“Yours, daddy,  _yours_!”

Tony slips a hand under his hips and grabs Peter’s neglected cock, stroking fast and hard, making him moan loudly with relief at the contact.

“I didn’t catch that, baby. Who?”

Peter can’t help a little smile of achievement, which is quickly erased by another brutal thrust by Tony.

“Iron Man” he whispers.

“Say it again.”

“Iron Man.”

“Again.”

“Iron Man!”

The last one comes off as a strangled cry and Peter comes all over the floor, coating the gauntlet as well. Only a few seconds later, Tony growls and Peter can feel hot spurts filling him inside, the weight of the armor suddenly getting heavier because Tony is going limp over his back.

It takes them long minutes to recover, the first one to move being Tony, who places soft kisses and a playful bite on Peter’s damp neck. He lifts up and slides out, eliciting a whimper from the body underneath him. Peter lies over the table with his head turned to the side and his cheek pressed to the surface, still fighting to get his breathing back to normal. He suddenly notices, with a mixture of shame and filthy pleasure, that there’s a pool of drool under his face and come dripping down his inner thighs. His legs are still shaky but he manages to lift his chest off the table. He looks over his shoulder at Tony, who’s out of the suit and has sat down on the chair.

Peter smiles.

Tony narrows his eyes.

Peter shrugs.

And then Tony just  _knows_.

“You little shit…” he lets out a breathy laugh. “You  _planned_  this, didn’t you?”

 

* * *

 

“Hi, Cap!”

Peter goes into the gym - phone (not so) casually in is his hand - where Steve is destroying one of the punching bags.

Cap turns around and stops throwing blows to smile at him.

“Hey, kiddo!”

“So, I was wondering, if you- I mean, if you wouldn’t mind…”

Peter puts on his best ‘adorable’ act: stuttering, head slightly down, cheeks a bit flushed, batting eyelashes and shy smile.

“What can I do for you, Peter?” Steve starts undoing his bandages, breathing still a bit heavy.

“Um, if you don’t mind, would- would you be so kind as to sign this?”

He shyly hands over a 1940’s Captain America poster. Steve is there in his first ever uniform, mimicking the famous Uncle Sam pose and it reads ‘I WANT YOU’ at the bottom.

“Oh, sure thing!”

Peter shoots him an adorable smile.

Funny thing is, despite what people might think at first glance, Peter is not just some wide-eyed, innocent, sweet boy. Despite what people might think, Peter can be a manipulative little minx. Despite what people might think, Peter knows  _exactly_  how to get what he wants.

“Thank you  _so_  much, Cap.”

And he leaves the gym with a Cheshire cat grin on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> *flight attendant voice through the speakers*  
> If you enjoyed this obnoxious pile of smut, please be a dear and let us know.  
> Thank you for flying with We're All Kinky Shits. We hope to see you again soon!


End file.
